


i will always love you how i do

by apothefarley



Series: The Mr Spreadsheet Verse [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David is having a No Good Very Bad Day, Fluffy, M/M, Married Life, Mr Spreadsheet, Patrick is a very good husband, Post-Canon, and so is his husband guy, bad day, but never fear his lil guy is gonna look after him, but this time he has caring to do, everyone's favourite chaos boy is back, raccoon snuggles, they're a lil family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apothefarley/pseuds/apothefarley
Summary: Everything aches, like a fresh bruise, constantly reminding him of its presence. So. He feels justified in calling it a bad day. He wants to be asleep. He wants to be in Patrick’s arms. He wants to be living out his normal life, working in the store, bugging his husband. He doesn’t know what he wants.A little snout nudges at his cheek. Mr Spreadsheet is leaning up over David’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. His little breaths against David’s cheek are mildly comforting, so he decides to roll over and see what his little guy wants.Or: David's having a bad day. His guys have got it handled, though.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: The Mr Spreadsheet Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040142
Comments: 17
Kudos: 92





	i will always love you how i do

As soon as David wakes up, he knows it’s a bad day. It’s actually the second time he’s woken up today; the first time, Patrick tried to kiss him awake in time for work, like usual, but instead of being sweet and fun and cozy, it made David feel claustrophobic and agitated, so he rolled away. He almost, _almost _mustered up the energy to feel bad for turning away from Patrick’s easy, open affection, but then Patrick just dropped a lingering kiss to his shoulder, over his shirt, and ran a careful hand down the line of David’s spine, soothing, and murmured something sweet and soothing that David didn't quite register before rolling out of bed carefully. David lay there, duvet pulled right up to his chin, and vaguely registered the familiar clattering and rumbling of Patrick getting ready for the day, of Mr Spreadsheet coming up the bed to curl up on Patrick’s pillow, close to David, like he always is. Then he faintly registered Patrick smoothing his hair back and kissing him lightly just below the ear. Sometime after that, David fell asleep again.__

____And now he’s awake, kind of wishing he wasn’t. He feels too hot and freezing at the same time. All his limbs are heavy. His head feels like tv static. It’s like he’s numb, but at the same time oversensitive. Everything aches, like a fresh bruise, constantly reminding him of its presence. So. He feels justified in calling it a bad day. He wants to be asleep. He wants to be in Patrick’s arms. He wants to be living out his normal life, working in the store, bugging his husband. He doesn’t know what he wants._ _ _ _

____A little snout nudges at his cheek. Mr Spreadsheet is leaning up over David’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. His little breaths against David’s cheek are mildly comforting, so he decides to roll over and see what his little guy wants._ _ _ _

____Upon turning over, it turns out that Mr Spreadsheet had something to give David. He’s holding a little yellow post-it note out expectantly. Like he’s been waiting for David to wake up just to give it to him. David reaches out to take it from the raccoon’s paw, and the adhesive on the top of the note sticks to the pads of Mr Spreadsheet’s paw a little. David doesn’t really have the energy to laugh, but the look of confusion and slight horror on the little guy’s face does raise his spirits very slightly._ _ _ _

____The post-it is from Patrick, obviously. Despite the fact they live and work together, and generally spend a huge proportion of their lives together, and own phones, Patrick loves leaving notes. David can’t say he minds. He’s got a nice little collection of them going in his top drawer. Not that he’d ever admit that to Patrick. This one is sweet, simple, just what David needs._ _ _ _

____**David,**____

****

****

_____**I have the store today. You stay home and look after yourself.  
You’re more important to me than anything else.  
I’ll call at lunch to check in.  
I love you.**_____

****

****

_____**Your husband,  
Patrick xx ******_____

****

****

****

______David exhales, long and slow, and rolls onto his back. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and feels the weight of the day start to press down on him. He doesn’t deserve love like this- steady, constant, familiar love, waiting for him on post it notes, and gathered up in the crumpled duvet, and captured in the framed prints of their wedding photos on the opposite wall. Patrick hides little bits of his love everywhere he possibly can, for safekeeping, just in case David ever needs it._ _ _ _ _ _

______He removes his hands from his face and settles more comfortably into the mattress. Immediately, Mr Spreadsheet wiggles his way under David’s arm and presses the length of his little body into David’s torso, warm and wriggling and overflowing with affection._ _ _ _ _ _

______David may not feel like he deserves this love he tripped and fell headfirst into, but he has it, so he holds the post-it note a little tighter, feels the rise and fall of Mr Spreadsheet’s breaths, and tries to let it wash over him._ _ _ _ _ _

______**_ _ _ _ _ _

______Patrick calls at lunchtime, like said he would, like he always does when he knows David is having one of those days. David rolls over to answer it, Patrick’s smiling, incandescently happy, face on their wedding day staring up at him. At least he has this, David tells himself, a husband who looks at him like he hung the moon, who uses ten minutes of his fifteen minute lunch break to check on him. It doesn’t make the weight on his chest ease, really, but it makes this whole mess of a day a little more bearable, to know that Patrick is going to come home to him at the end of it. To know that Patrick is loving him the whole way through it. That he’s not too much._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mr Spreadsheet makes an annoyed growling sound at the vibrating of the phone on the bedside table from where he’s pressed protectively against David’s side, napping. It reminds David he should probably pick up the call before it drops._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey, sweetheart,” Patrick says as soon as he picks up. His voice is quiet, soothing, a balm on David’s hectic brain. “Did you sleep any more?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Some,” David says. His voice is croaky with disuse. He sounds so tired. Which, fitting. He is tired, the bone deep kind that settles so heavy you can’t get rid of it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good,” Patrick replies. “What are you going to do this afternoon?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______This afternoon seems such an achingly long way away. David doesn’t even know what he’s going to do in five minutes, when Patrick has hung up. Time passes so slowly on days like this. In response, David makes a non-committal noise. In his sleep, pressed against David’s side, Mr Spreadsheet kicks his back legs, doubtlessly chasing the neighbour’s dog or Rollie Jr. or Patrick and the lawnmower in his sleep, content. His presence is comforting, the fact he still seeks David out and clearly finds comfort in him, even on the days where David feels his very worst._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You should eat something,” Patrick says soothingly. “If you can. I can’t really leave the store to come bring or make you something, but I can text Stevie or Twyla and get them to bring something over? Or I’ll close up early and come home if you really need me to, babe, I’ll just-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No,” David interrupts, then clears his throat and tries again. “Don’t do that. Stay at work. It’s fine. I’ll get up. Mr S needs lunch anyway. I can probably rustle myself something up for myself while I’m doing that, I guess.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s great, babe. You should definitely do that.” He can hear the smile in Patrick’s voice, the care and affection. He loves this man and how he wears his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. How he makes sure David knows he loves him, all the time, even when they’re not together. How he can do it without even saying the words any more. How he keeps David safe and secure inside of his love, even on the worst days._ _ _ _ _ _

______He can’t say that though, hasn’t worked out how. So instead he clears his throat and asks, “Is the store busy?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A little,” Patrick tells him. “It’s felt pretty quiet without you here, though.” He tells David this not to make him feel bad, just to let him know that he’s thinking of him, that he’s noticed the David-shaped hole in his life today._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll be back tomorrow,” David says, and somewhere, in the bones of him, he knows it’s true. He can’t wait to be back with Patrick, back in their store, back in the life he feels so removed from today. “You better not have moved that candle display while I’m not there to stop you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Patrick laughs, soft and sweet, and the sound of it down the phone warms David a little bit. “Promise I haven’t touched them. Hey, babe, I’m sorry, but I should probably-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“-Get back to work,” David finishes. “Yeah. That’s fine.” It kind of doesn’t feel like it, though._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey,” Patrick says. “David. I’ll be home before you know it. I love you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I love you,” David echoes, then hangs up before he can let himself draw it out. He exhales a long breath from somewhere deep in his chest, then pulls himself up to sitting. The movement jostles Mr Spreadsheet, who startles awake, then sits up to mirror David, blinking up at him sleepily._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Lunch?” David asks him, already knowing the answer._ _ _ _ _ _

______***  
David eats leftover carbonara cross-legged on the kitchen floor next to Mr Spreadsheet, who’s scooping kibble into his mouth like David and Patrick have never fed him before. Then afterwards, he gets the raccoon raspberries for dessert, and eats every single one that Mr Spreadsheet hands him to share. Raspberries are his favourite, so David must look as bad as he feels. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Then he showers, which is a lot of effort, but annoyingly makes him feel so much more like a human adult. Mr Spreadsheet sits on the closed toilet seat while he does it, which is so sweet it makes David ache in a completely different way. Usually, Patrick sits there while David is in the shower, and talks about his day, or their weekend plans, or spreadsheets, or something else mundane but thrilling. Obviously, Mr Spreadsheet can’t talk, but he rolls his red ball back and forth on the counter to make noise, and occasionally leans his head around the shower screen, as if to let David know he’s still there waiting for him._ _ _ _ _ _

______David lingers in the shower, treating himself with the nicest Rose Apothecary products they have, and when he gets out, he notices that Patrick left his college hockey sweatshirt folded into a neat square at the end of the bed. He’d never wear it out of the house and would deny it if ever asked, but it’s his favourite item of clothing in the world to wear. He dresses in clean sweats and the jumper and his uggs, Mr Spreadsheet following him around the whole time, and then decides to take them both outside._ _ _ _ _ _

______That’s how Patrick finds him when he gets home that night, sitting on the bench swing in their back garden, watching Mr Spreadsheet bask in the last rays of rich, orange sun. It’s barely 5:15, which means Patrick closed at 5 on the dot and came straight home. David can’t say he minds; neither the seeing his husband sooner than anticipated, nor Patrick’s eagerness to get home to his family, to give David the love he knows is there all the time anyway._ _ _ _ _ _

______Patrick leans down to kiss him on the forehead, and David tilts his face up for a real kiss, their first one since last night, and sinking into it feels like coming home. David feels less foreign in his body, now. Not all the way there, but somehow, accepting Patrick back into his orbit has made him feel less off kilter._ _ _ _ _ _

______Patrick kicks off his shoes and flops down onto the porch swing, lifting his arm immediately for David to snuggle into him. He kisses David’s hair three times, on the same spot, even though it’s still damp from the shower. Then, without his lips leaving the top of David’s head, he murmurs, “You okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______David takes a deep breath and looks out. He doesn’t feel good, still feels achy and exhausted and that nameless kind of wrong that there’s no words for. It’s a bad day. But Mr Spreadsheet is dozing, content. The sun is setting in brilliant oranges over the back of the beautiful home he shares with the love of his life, a place where they’ve made it safe to grow and love and be known. He’s got his whole body pressed into Patrick, is surrounded by him, cared for by him. All the rest is kind of elementary, really._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not today,” David says. “But tomorrow, I think I will be.”_ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> everyone's fave chaos boy is back!!!!!!!! thank you all so much for the love on the last mr spreadsheet fic, it warmed my heart so much that everyone loved him as much as betsy and i do, and that everyone was so wonderfully complementary about my writing!!! thank you a million times!!!!
> 
> i have a wealth of mr s fics/ideas in my drive so hopefully this will become a series if people want that!!!
> 
> once again, this is for betsy. and for everyone who's having a tough time right now. i see you and you're doing so so well, and you're loved.
> 
> (title is from godspeed- frank ocean)


End file.
